The Color Today is Grey
by Evangeline Dixon
Summary: A story of Eowyn and Faramir (with battles and stuff too.)
1. Chapter 1

Éomer clasped his hand tightly around his little sisters shoulder as she looked up at him weakly, the morning had brought with it a bleak horizon speckled with hope and Eowyn was determined to be part of it.

"You are an ignorant, stupid little girl Eowyn," He said softly, so that his words had less meaning.

"But a brave one," Aragorn commented from the doorway, he leant against the frame lazily, although he was earnest.

He wasn't even looking at her and Eowyn could barely see through her sleep stained eyes but still she blushed because he was in her presence alone, and the embarrassment of their last conversation was still raw.

"King Théoden," She breathed, turning her head into the pillow to weep.

"Yes, indeed," Éomer let a hand run over her blonde hair before standing from the bed.

It was a sad and joyous day for all of them, heavy with the prospect of death and valour. Éomer walked over to Aragorn whose head was bowed.

"She will not fight," Éomer demanded and Aragorn smirked, despite her great achievement Éomer was still only concerned with his sister's safety and not her strength in battle.

"She will not be able to fight," Aragorn said, hushed so that she did not hear, "She must rest here for ten days, and by that time the battle will be over, lost or won,"

Éomer nodded, sparing another look at Eowyn, curled up in the bed, her limp arm still mildly tinged with grey and shuddered, recalling his mania on the battle field when he saw her, broken. He had screamed, he wailed out to the high heavens and hated Aragorn as he looked on, as if he knew this would happen and he had hated Gandalf as he had looked on too and he hated Eowyn for putting herself in that position. Though now, she was here, and she was safe. Safe as she could be in times like these.

"There is no man who can keep her here Aragorn," Éomer insisted and Aragorn smiled again, it was true.

"There may be one," Aragorn turned to leave, his hand on the hilt of his sword when suddenly Eowyn sat bolt upright in the bed, her eyes wide and seeing.

"Merry! Where is Merry?!" She gasped, blushing now at her foolishness not to remember her friend.

Aragorn rushed to her side, placing a hand on her translucent arm and hushing her back from her hysteria.

"He is well, he is well, he is more concerned about you, my lady," Eowyn clutched at Aragorn's hand and let the breath run out of her, her blonde hair cascading down her face. "But now you must sleep,"

Eowyn did not hear him, she was too busy wading through the relief she was feeling and Aragorn took advantage of this, touching Éomer lightly before heading towards the door.

"We must prepare," He whispered.

* * *

Eowyn woke with a start and was immediately out of bed, staring at her wounded arm and wondering how she had so much movement in it. She strode towards the door, the long trails of her silken dress swept along the concrete slabs as she made her way outside.

"Where is the warden," She yelled, aware of what was happening outside, from the gardens she could see the unearthly darkness of Mordor in the distance and she knew time was running out. "Where is the warden?!"

A man stepped out from behind a pillar, surprising her. He had shoulder length brown hair and a weathered, but soft, face. Eowyn recognised him as Faramir, son of Denethor.

"My lady," He began but she swept past him.

"Move, I must find the warden,"

Faramir caught her arm and pulled her back towards him using little effort, she was a lithe thing.

"There is no one here but us, my lady,"

It was dark, and there were no sounds of birds in the trees. Only the distant hum of Mordor's awakening.

"I understand you fought well," His eyes drifted down to her arm, "But if we fight, we will die,"

"And what is so wrong with that?" She snapped, attempting to free herself but Faramir held on until the third tug before letting go, watching as she stumbled.

"There is hope yet for Middle Earth, Eowyn," Faramir spoke slowly, he promised, "I want to be alive to see the first light of a new day sail over the mountains, to rejoice at a victory not just for those who fight, but for the realms of men themselves and to take a wife and see my sons and daughters play in a world without the ever looming darkness of Mordor,"

Eowyn envisioned these things for herself and a warm smile spread across her face. Faramir stepped closer to her.

"Do you not want these things, my lady?" He took her hand, "If you die, you will never know what it was for,"

She sighed and turned from him, breaking the contact with her hand. Instead, she cradled her blue arm.

"Your arm," Faramir spoke again behind her as they stared out to the darkness, his breath in her hair, "If you had died instead of defeating the witch-king, the Gods only know what would have become of us,"

"I must fight," Eowyn barked, tearing away from the man and searching for someone, anyone else. Once again Faramir stopped her.

"You will never a knight Eowyn, and truly I am sorry you were not born a man," Faramir spat as he took her by the shoulders, his face close to hers. Then he drew back, holding her at length, "But you are something greater than that, you are the Maiden of the Shield Arm. Now, you can be a woman, and accept that you cannot fight. Or, you can choose to be the Maiden of the Shield Arm and _understand why_ you cannot fight,"


	2. Chapter 2

"Why are you here?" She asked, sensing that the footsteps on the cold, stone floor would be his.

"I have something for you," Faramir said slowly, staying put at Eowyn's door.

He pitied the woman. After a long talk with Merry he had learned of her despair, her days under the command of Sauron and the leering watch of Gríma Wormtongue only to be freed by a man who rejected her love. He understood her need to fight, she was anything but a passive woman and she needed to prove that. Except she didn't need to prove it to anyone, everyone already knew. Eowyn was a caged bird; her wings clipped by the sentence 'the battlefield is no place for a woman'. Just like he himself had been caged by his father's overbearing love for his brother.

Eowyn sighed. She stared at herself in the reflection of her mirror. It was as if her white hair had grown whiter with anxiety, her face sallow and grey and her arm seemed to be taking even longer to heal. She had been avoiding Faramir, unwilling to accept his words from the day before.

Slowly, she turned.

"What is it?" She was surprised to see he had nothing with him.

Instead, Faramir offered her his hand, his other arm held behind his back like a true gentleman. Eowyn let her eyes drift down to her outstretched hand, again she sighed before rising. She went to take his hand, moving away the material of her long sleeves. She lay her long, slender fingers on top of his palm and, gently, he closed his hand. He took her through the gardens, not speaking, just leading her.

"Where are we going?" She asked slightly nervously but he just shook his curls and smiled.

Faramir walked lazily through the Houses of Healing, moving towards the rooms at the East, his soft leather shoes barely making sound of the floors. Finally, he stopped and turned to her. Her blue eyes were narrowed in confusion, arms folded tightly across the blue material of her dress.

"Will you close your eyes?" He asked, expecting the answer.

"I will not," Faramir laughed and stepped aside; gesturing for her to enter the room he had brought her to. The room was identical to her other one: Dresser, bed, chair, arched window etc. But Eowyn gasped when she entered this room for there was one, fundamental difference.

She raced to the window, her arms on the ledge, head thrust out into the cold night air.

"Steady," Faramir quipped, racing forward to steady her as she leant out of the archway.

Immediately, he removed his hands from her small hips.

"Faramir," She said breathlessly, turning around to smile thankfully at him.

The man came round to stand next to her and both of them gazed out at the view. The room was to the East, facing Mordor. Now, Eowyn could know, she was not in the dark any longer.

"Thank you," She said, eyes fixed on the mountain of red ahead of her, "I am grateful for this, truly,"

Suddenly, Eowyn's face, which had then been full of light, fell. Her eyes grew distant, like she was recalling a long forgotten memory, her widened eyes fell to the floor and slowly she retreated from the window.

"The city has fallen silent, there is no warmth left in the sun," Eowyn spoke without hope, retreating back into her darkness. "It grows so cold,"

Faramir moved forward, his hand on her back, guiding her to the window once more.

"It is only the damp of the first spring rain," He said, taking her small hand in his. Smiling gently as he felt her fingers squeeze his. "I do not believe this darkness will endure,"

Eowyn let the despair fall from her; a wash of release swept over her and her head fell to the side, connecting with Faramir's shoulder. She rested there; they rested there, hand in hand, until the light came again.


End file.
